


Made of Embers

by honey_wheeler



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Multi, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 21:12:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6167014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She no longer remembers how it started, nor what it was that changed them from her brothers to her lovers.  Or perhaps she does not wish to remember. Her story has been one of pain far too often to question such things that give her pleasure. And oh, they give her <i>such</i> pleasure. Each differently, each lavishly, each perfectly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made of Embers

**Author's Note:**

> For the valar_morekinks kinkmeme prompt: Jon and Robb try to see who can get Sansa off the fastest, the longest, etc... Sansa does not object but thinks they do their best working together.

It's different with each of them, for all that they can be so similar to each other sometimes. They've always been thick as thieves, playing together as boys, training together as lads, fighting together as young men. Now with Robb as a King and Jon as his Hand, they're together more than ever.

Even in her bedchamber.

She no longer remembers how it started, nor what it was that changed them from her brothers to her lovers. Or perhaps she does not wish to remember. Her story has been one of pain far too often to question such things that give her pleasure. And oh, they give her _such_ pleasure. Each differently, each lavishly, each perfectly. 

Robb is filthier; the brother who had once soothed her nightmares now inflames her dreams with his tender vulgarities and rough desires. He kisses her until her tongue is sore from reaching, fucks her until she finds it difficult to walk. He bends her over her footboard with a caressing hand on her nape and drives inside her until the roar of blood in her ears drowns out the slap of his flesh on hers. "Let me in that hot little cunny of yours," he says as she quivers and throbs around him, "tell me you want me, my filthy girl, my gorgeous little slut." It's not the first time she's been called such a thing, but it's the only time she's ever liked it.

Jon is sweeter. The half-brother she'd never been close to now does such intimate things that she blushes to think on them, even when she's alone. He's spent hours with his face between her thighs, lapping and licking at her, driving her crazy with need. _Beautiful_ , he calls her, _sweet, such a lovely girl_. He sets his mouth at her breasts to suckle like a babe as he fucks her with long, deep strokes, his hair soft and curling around her fingers.

They didn't touch her together at first. She's never been with one and not the other -- this is something that both of them seem to instinctively know must be shared between all or none, that their sins can only be shared -- but for a time each only watched the other. It was a surprise to learn that the watching was a pleasure in itself; Sansa spent so long wishing herself invisible that to glory in being seen was a novel thing. She hadn't expected her pleasure to heighten from the feel of Robb's eyes on her as Jon supped on her like a banquet, or the sound of Jon's pained groan as he watched Robb guide her in riding him like a horse. Nor had she anticipated how one's presence would goad the other on to greater feats. The fond rivalry of their youth resurfaced in her bed. Who could make her peak the quickest, who could draw it out the longest, who could make her beg shamelessly like the worst sort of slattern. 

But now...now she thinks she'd like them to work together.

She doesn't ask. This has never been something they speak about. It's always seemed too big for words. Instead she does what she's always dreams of doing in so many ways: she takes what she wants.

Robb has developed a fondness for fucking her in one of the great chairs before her fire. This night, he'd turned her before pulling her down onto his lap, so now she faces Jon in his own chair as Robb fucks into her from behind, her legs held open by his parted knees between them. With every rumbling sound from Jon's chest, Robb parts his knees farther, until Sansa feels she could split in half, every bit of her open and exposed and achingly vulnerable. There's a strength in it, a freedom in allowing herself to be so vulnerable, knowing they'll never hurt her. Maybe that's what goads her, the way they so often goad each other. Whatever the cause, when Sansa feels the desperate need for Jon's lips on hers, she indulges it, leaning forward to reach for him.

He comes eagerly, happily tugged forward by her hand fisted in the tunic that she's suddenly glad he still wears. There's surprise in his eyes when she yanks his mouth down to hers, but he instantly licks into her mouth, pulling her tongue into his own and sucking gently. It's delicious in combination with Robb's cock moving inside her. It only makes her want more. It makes her want _everything_.

She tugs Robb's hands to her breasts, then pulls Jon's to join them. It feels so wanton, so decadent, having two sets of worshiping hands on her body, two mouths tasting her skin, Robb's at her shoulder, Jon's behind her ear. Sansa arches into them. She nearly wishes there were two of each of them, so they could touch and taste her everywhere at once, a dozen of them dedicated only to bringing her pleasure.

"Mouth," she pants, nosing at Jon's temple. "I want your mouth on me." Obligingly, he dips his head, catching her nipple where it peeks through Robb's fingers. _Gods_ , every moment she spent not doing this seems wasted now. She wants them both on her, inside her, forever. Robb offers Jon her other breast and Jon takes it, his teeth a dull scrape across her nipple that she feels between her legs.

"Lower," she manages, though part of her wants them to worship her breasts for hours yet. "I want your mouth lower. I want you both at my cunt."

Jon groans as Robb's throaty chuckle vibrates through Sansa's back where it's pressed to his chest. "What a delightfully filthy girl you are," he says. "Jon, do oblige her." Jon can't seem to speak -- even in bed, he's never had Robb's confident ease -- but he sinks to his knees instantly, pressing kisses up the insides of her thighs before dragging his tongue between them, from where Robb moves within her to the sensitive knot of nerves above. Sansa practically weeps with the pleasure of it. Something like a sob escapes her throat as he continues to lap at her, a sound that doubles when he purses his lips and begins to suck. It's the first time he's been as near to Robb as he is to her, but he shows no hesitation or discomfort, and Sansa loves him for it, loves both of them, loves the brothers they've always been and the lovers they've become.

She loses track of how many times she comes. After Robb spends within her, Jon lifts her and carries her to the bed, following her down to the mattress and fucking her like a man possessed as Robb watches them, boneless and sated. Seems she's not the only who enjoys them working together. At length, he joins them and they sleep for a while, the three of them tangled together like wool yarn in a basket. When Sansa wakes, it's to see them in silent collusion above her, some meaning passing between them that she's not privy to.

"That was pleasant," she murmurs, trying to keep the question out of her voice. But there's no denying it's a question. She's changed the game, and though she didn't care at the consequences before, now she finds herself tentative and worried.

Jon laughs and ducks his head to kiss her sweetly, dispelling any fears she might have had. "That's one word for it."

"I can think of others," Robb adds drily, his hand moving in a circle over her belly.

"How interesting," she quips, "because I can think of all sorts of other...pleasant things we can do. Together."

"Gods preserve us," Robb laughs. She'd have thought she was sated beyond the point of feeling any more pleasure, but when his hand strokes through her maidenhair and over the flesh beyond, heat pools in her belly.

"Is that a no or a yes?" she asks.

"Yes," they both chorus emphatically, and Sansa only smiles.


End file.
